Thursday, September 09, 2004

this is life, apparently

Q: But then why does it feel so dull and lifeless?

A: The responsibilities of work, family, friends (true ones and so-called ones) seem to create such an influx of shit that a Pulp Fiction style OD doesn't seem so unappealing anymore - and while I'm on the subject, that might just include that rather painful-looking adrenalin shot to the heart.

To put the blame on society itself would be wrong. Sure, if I had been a bit more responsible with my money during the last academic year, and had worked alongside my studying, I wouldn't have had to work an average of 50-60 hours a week over the summer. All the same, I can't help but feel it is still largely society's fault for creating a divide between shirkers and workers. I never thought I'd be one to moan about taxes, but I think I shall do so in a slightly more "blue" way, rather than ally myself with the bourgeouisie scum I'm beginning to picture my employers as - slave-drivers looking to exploit the young and inexperienced to carry out those menial, yet sometimes complicated tasks that they'd rather sit back and watch you (that's litle people like you and me) do to make themselves feel better and more important, and in charge, and wonderful, and make me feel over-worked and under-paid. Perhaps I'm just a tad envious of those that have been born with a silver spoon in their mouth (or rather, a wad of cash in their pocket), but, in a world where the people around me are beginning to appear more and more selfish and concerned merely for their own survival, I think I just might be entitled to feel this way. I'm almost tempted to tell society to fuck off, and try my hand at being self-sufficient. But, I don't really see that happening in Portsmouth where I would have a better chance of doing that by picking rubbish off the streets and making keychains out society's waste (like I remember doing with crisp packets in middle school for some reason), than indulging in something a bit more agricultural like trying to plant potatoes in the concrete pavement outside my student house. I think this might continue for a long while.

None of this, however, explains why blood really is thicker than water - though I am starting to believe it has something to do with the sheer amount of "shit" involved in the aforementioned "influx". Though, to be fair, mum's getting better at being less of a weight on my shoulders. Grandmama, on the other hand, is not. I'm still battling to escape that constant image of 'slackerism' which I created around myself. She doesn't seem to understand that my love of inactivity is not that much different from her love of activity, and actually presents a kind of karmic balance. It does not, however, present a financial balance, and she still insists that she will only help me in the money department, if I help myself. So perhaps that does explain why blood is thicker than water, and I resent having to work during my holiday.

I don't think it's fair that my friends get paid holiday and I don't. BASTARDS!